Celebrating an Original Goth - a review of Amphigorey by Edward Gorey

Last week I offered up a list of thirteen books every well-rounded geek should have on their shelf. Obviously thirteen does not a comprehensive list make, but rather than push out another thirteen--we'll save that for a week when I'm too lazy to come up with something new--I instead introduce to you, on stage, the incomparable Edward Gorey. Original Goth.




Okay, original is a strong word. I leave out folks like Poe, Shelley, Lovecraft, and Dickinson. I pass over, perhaps unfairly, Charles Addams. And of course there were the Visigoths and the Ostrogoths. But you get my idea. Gorey was illustrated a kind of brooding, gothic world long before it was cool or trendy.

Edward Gorey (1925-2000) was one of us. He reportedly enjoyed Buffy, The X-Files, and Batman: The Animated Series. He was a man of many talents, but is best known for his macabre drawings which straddle the hazy borders between comic and fine art, and his very odd sense of the...well...odd.

Despite the upper-class Edwardian trappings of much of his work, Gorey was as American as Chicago-style pizza. His work has probably influenced more gloomy artists and dark wits than Charles Addams and Gahan Wilson combined. Think Neil Gaiman. Think Angus Oblong. In Gorey's world, Very Bad Things happen to people--mostly children--who don't necessarily deserve it, and we can feel right in calling this art.





His works sometimes involve monsters, but more often the monsters are people--or reflections of people's dark psyches and dark imaginations. Sometimes the monsters are simply mysterious. They are the Unexplained Dread in our lives, and Gorey puts his pen onto paper and confronts us with quiet horror.

Goth kids, take note. This is how it's done. Black lipstick? Yawn. Wake me when you're drowning in dead spiders and one very live foot-long millipede.

Likewise, Gorey delighted in literary nonsense verse. In the spirit of Edward Lear and Lewis Carroll, Gorey was fond of precision rhythms and wordplay. Surrealism that is very carefully crafted, which is why his work is as much a pleasure to read aloud as to oneself. Call it Dr. Suess for people (kids and grownups) with a sense of humor about their fears.

Gorey's Amphigorey: Fifteen Books is truth in advertising. Each of the fifteen short pieces were originally published as individual volumes; now they are collected into this one larger volume. If you've never experienced the melodious, yet dreadfully twisted, world of Edward Gorey, this is a good representative and affordable place to start. In Gorey's words:

Amphigorey is made up of books first published between 1953 and 1965. They are now difficult and often expensive to come by: hence this compilation. Its title is taken from amphigory, or amphigouri, meaning a nonsense verse or composition.
E.G.

I think it's interesting that there are no page numbers. I think it says something about the uncertainty of the world of Edward Gorey's creations. They are lives set adrift, and you, the reader, won't enjoy an unfair advantage with page numbers to tell you where you are.

The collection begins with "The Unstrung Harp; or., Mr. Earbrass Writes a Novel", a story about an author struggling with the woes common to many writers (discipline, self-criticism, lonliness, apprehension, disappointing sales) and a little dementia accompanied by artwork best described as quiet desparation. There's no drooling here, but rather a glimpse into a world that seems for both the protagonist and the reader as slightly out of phase. Like looking at a life through a veil.

Next up is a collection of grim limericks entitled "The Listing Attic". It's a bit of hit or miss here. Some of the limericks come off as clever, many seem forced. I can't speak for the few composed in French. The artwork seemed a little hurried as well in spots--almost as if he started with a random sketch, then composed a limerick around it. Not all, mind you. But most.

"The Doubtful Guest" is a well-recognized classic. The rhymed couplets and distinctive appearance of the "guest" make one think of a demented nursery rhyme book. I enjoyed the depictions of the bewildered family in this piece--my favorite being the fiercely bearded head of the household.

"The Object Lesson" comes across as a dark dream sequence with a loosely connected thread of events woven through an equally dark Edwardian tapestry. Some pieces reminded me of the artwork used in opening to PBS's Mystery!



"The Bug Book" is the sort of children's story that sends a really mixed message. What does the black bug represent? Superficially one might assume that it's about desegregation, but that's lazy thinking. I think the black bug represents fear, doubt, and other joy-killers; and the colored bugs take quite proper steps. Then again, not all problems can be solved with a big rock. Hence that mixed message thing.

"The Fatal Lozenge" is a collection of very dark, brooding, and disturbing illustrated verse. Gorey goes for dread and shock in these pieces, that much is clear.

"The Hapless Child" is tragic. Terribly tragic. Oh my god...this is so freaking sad. I want to find and purchase this as a single volume. Imagine the parenting tool it could be. Follow the very sad and very short life of Charlotte Sophia. Then have a drink. Maybe two.

Gorey occasionally signed his works using anagram forms of his name. As Ogdred Weary, he composed "The Curious Sofa - a pornographic work". It's one of those pieces that reminds you how bawdy life on private estates or behind closed doors could be in Edwardian times. It's pretty typical of some of the literature from the time, and the artwork summons up that feel of upper-class hedonism. Of course, it being Gorey, things end on a questionable note. But then again, so did a lot of those bawdy bedroom tales of yore.

"The Willowdale Handcar; or, The Return of the Black Doll" is a fascinating story of three friends--two men and a woman--who steal a railroad handcar on a lark and travel across the countryside to visit friends, relatives and other sites of note. Along the way they observe strange coincidences and connections, as a darker story shadows their journey until...until they reach the Iron Hills. I thought the artwork was exceptional in this piece.

I do know where I can get a copy of "The Gashleycrumb Tinies" as a single volume, and would like to put it away someplace safe so it may one day become Baby's First Book. How can one resist with couplets such as "A is for Amy who fell down the stairs / B is for Basil devoured by bears" with appropriate pictures of just what you'd imagine.

"The Insect God" is the charmingly morbid story of one Millicent Frastley who wanders away from home, gets into a strange car, travels to the a country manor house and...well, I'll not ruin it for you.



"The West Wing" is completely wordless--just gaunt images of an old tired, sad house and its inhabitants and odd corners. What fun one could have with a place like this! The drawings are well worth close examination for odd details, stories untold, and things missing.

"The Wuggly Ump" would be Baby's Second Book. It's kind of a cross between The Sound of Music and Jurrasic Park. Let that stew in your imagination.

"The Sinking Spell" examines an unseen phenomenon, force, entity, what-have-you as it passes through the home of an upper-middle-class family.

The final story in the collection is the story of a young lady named Drusilla who is the focus of "The Remembered Visit". It's a more wistful tale than a morbid one. Lovely and regretful all at once, with the trademark artwork, and serves as a good endpiece to the collection.

And there is a quick, down-and-dirty synopsis of the fare in Amphigorey. I don't believe I spoiled anything. Hopefully, instead, I turned on your curiousity. There are at least three additional volumes of the Amphigory series, plus additional books not collected, but Amphigorey is a great start. And yes, higjly recommended. An oldie, and a goodie.

Cheers!

For information on how to get your book, comic, movie, whatever reviewed on Falling Off the Shelf, or to send hate mail, feel free to contact me at john (at) johnteehan (dot) com.

Amphigorey
by Edward Gorey
Perigee Trade; illustrated edition edition
January 28, 1980